


we grew up under the war table

by After_all_this_time



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Death, Grief, Sadness, War, growing up during war, not completely canon but it keeps with the general ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/After_all_this_time/pseuds/After_all_this_time
Summary: In which the Etherian Princesses grow up during a hard war.  They make their first friends under the meeting table of the Original Alliance, and they also suffer great losses.  It's not an easy time for anyone. (The "non-canon" bit is mostly the fact that Glimmer, Perfuma, and Mermista are friends as kids and they aren't in the series.  Also, I'm sure a lot of this will turn out to be non-canon later on as we receive more info about the original Princess Alliance, but for now I filled in the gaps as well as I could.)





	we grew up under the war table

Glimmer grew up under the war table. Of course, the war table had little use until just after she had turned six. She was often allowed to stay with her parents while they met with strange adults there on the condition that she stayed quiet. She got to see her Aunt Castaspella there, who always peppered her face with kisses while Glimmer writhed in her embraces and interrogated Glimmer’s mummy about how she was treating her. She also met her first friends there. Glimmer had no friends. There were other children in the castle, but most were the children of servants or soldiers, and since they were technically partially under her jurisdiction, friendships with them were unlikely to occur. 

But there were other children under the war table. There was Perfuma, just shy of seven years old, who had a habit of making flowers blossom under her bare feet whenever she laughed, which was often. Her daddy was tall, taller than Glimmer’s daddy, and at one point, he, too, laughed often, but it happened less and less often as the months passed.

There was also Mermista, who was very proudly eight and a half and wore her turquoise hair in two neat plaits. Her parents wore sad smiles whenever they looked at her. Glimmer once heard her mummy say something about what a horrible time it was to grow up in while watching them play- play was a loose term for them using their new, unreliable, mostly harmless powers against each other until Glimmer’s mother banished them all from the room for being too loud. Then they would retreat to the castle gardens, where they would chase each other, giggling as Mermista would blast Perfuma and Glimmer with salt water, at least, until Perfuma would trip her with a vine or Glimmer would throw a ball of light at her. 

They were, for the most part, the only children present. There were also teenagers gathered at the “Alliance,” as they had figured out it was called, but they were part of the table, not the crowd underneath. 

As time went by, Glimmer learned some of these new faces. Entrapta was nineteen, although she didn’t seem it. She often snuck the little girls treats under the table with her magical purple hair- sweets or toys that she had made for them, usually tiny wind-up robots. Then there were Spinarella and Netossa. They were younger than Entrapta- Spinarella only seventeen and Netossa only fifteen. Glimmer was too young to see how young, how scared they looked at every meeting, although she did notice how they clutched each others’ hands under the table. 

The meetings in the war table were usually Glimmer’s favorite part of the week. Although Glimmer’s life was by no means bad, it was definitely not lively, and she loved seeing her friends. But Mermista’s mother had been correct. War was a hard time to grow up. 

When Glimmer was seven and three-quarters, when she was still just barely small enough to fit underneath the table comfortably but Mermista and Perfuma had both been bumping their heads on its underside for months, the voices above the table grew louder. She often heard her daddy yelling things about not just standing down to “them,” to “The Evil Horde.” Then Perfuma’s father would say in a much softer voice something about the universe righting itself eventually. Glimmer’s mother would then pleadingly ask Entrapta whether she had made any progress on “the weapons” yet- the answer was usually that they were coming along but that she had hit a bump in the road, or that she needed more “First Ones Tech.” That was one of the only things that Glimmer actually understood. She knew about First Ones Tech- her mom had only been talking about it for as long as Glimmer could remember. Other than that, she and the other children were mostly concerned with pursuits such as watching Mermista try and sneak her father’s trident away from his side without his noticing. On the rare occasion that she succeeded, she would usually mishandle it and accidentally poke someone in the foot (Glimmer had nearly lost a toe during one of these capers, and certainly would have lost it if it weren’t for her Aunt Castaspella’s healing spell. After this Mermista’s father took care to place his trident far away from prying little fingers during meetings.) 

By the time Glimmer was nine, she was finally too tall to properly fit underneath the table anymore. She and the other girls then graduated to sitting in a corner, being much more aware of what was actually going on. Perfuma was by then easily the tallest of the bunch, and had inherited her father’s flaxen hair and smooth temperament. She cried easily whenever the adults spoke of another village burned, another town lost. Glimmer tried to comfort her, to little avail. 

All of them were old enough to understand that what was going on. There was a bad group, The Evil Horde, and they were strong. They were, specifically, stronger than anything that Etheria had to offer. By this point, they all knew of someone who had lost someone to the Horde. 

This was also the point at which they started trying to act grown-up. Perfuma finally started wearing shoes (this was really quite a milestone given that she had gone barefoot for ten years of her life) and Mermista now wore her hair in a single, much less neat braid over one shoulder. Glimmer just wanted to fight, desperately, and practiced honing her powers whenever she got the chance. The adults at the table were usually talking about battle strategies, which fascinated her. She would watch, captivated, as her father argued for a direct attack and her mother countered him with a more subtle approach. She watched Netossa get frustrated and slam her hands on the table with tears in her eyes countless times, only to have Spinarella calm her with a touch to her shoulder. 

When Glimmer was ten, there was more battle talk than ever. She often tried to butt her way into the table with her own suggestions, only to get told off for it. She had watched her parents go off into battle twice now. On those nights, she laid in her bed and cried quietly. As much as she tried to act like she wasn’t, she was scared. Scared for her daddy, who still sometimes held her on his lap and who shared her fiery personality. Scared for her mother, who Glimmer adored, as frequently as she reprimanded her for being too reckless, too brash.

Glimmer wasn’t the only one with sleepless nights those days.

Perfuma’s father, although he refused to fight, would often be away, helping villagers escape from Horde attacks and protecting the land. Mermista’s parents were preoccupied with keeping the Sea Gate from crumbing. All three of them had awoken to red explosions in the night sky and during the day had watched smoke rise in the air among the dying trees.

On the day that Glimmer’s parents went into battle for the third time, all the adults and children had gathered in the castle, even though it wasn’t time for the weekly meeting. Glimmer, through eavesdropping, had gathered that there was word that The Horde was planning a massive attack, children were meant to be safer in Bright Moon. She also gathered that her and Mermista’s parents were going to go and fight, but that Perfuma’s father was not. He was going back to Plumeria to protect his people there. It had grown too dangerous for his only daughter, though. Glimmer watched him kiss Perfuma on the forehead before he departed, telling her to behave and stay safe, telling her that she was all he had left in the world. She also watched Perfuma cry and cling to him like she hadn’t done since she was a little girl, begging him not to go.

Glimmer tried to put on a brave face when she went to tell her parents goodbye, which ended the very moment she saw her father standing in his armor in front of his carriage and collapsed into his arms, sobbing. He hugged her and told her not to cry, that he would be back the next day. Her mother stroked her hair and kissed her tears away, wings briefly folding around her small family. 

Mermista didn’t cry, at least not until after her parents had both hugged her and kissed her and departed. Even then she didn’t let the others see her tears, running away to the gardens before they could see her face.

That night none of them even tried to sleep- instead they sat in Glimmer’s room and told each other ghost stories, trying to distract themselves.

The next evening passed in much the same way, except that they all rushed to the window each time they thought that they heard anyone approaching the city, only to be even more disappointed each time.

The third night, just as the sun was setting, Glimmer spotted two familiar chariots in the distance. They all raced down to the front gate of the castle with wide smiles, so full of energy that they couldn’t keep still. 

After a few agonizingly long minutes, the two chariots finally touched down. Mermista’s parents embraced her as soon as they stepped out, to which she protested, but returned the affection. Glimmer watched watched the door of the chariot with the Bright Moon emblem upon it with similar anticipation. Why weren’t they opening the door? What was wrong? 

Queen Angella finally opened the chariot door and Glimmer ran into her arms. She pulled away after a moment, confused as to where her father was. A look at her mother’s face, empty and sad, told her something was wrong. Glimmer peered around her shoulder into the empty chariot. Suddenly fear stuck itself deep into her chest. He couldn’t be. _No._ Nothing bad could happen to her daddy. He was too brave, too strong. Glimmer looked back at her mother, usually so solid, so dependable. Now tears were gliding down her face. “He loved you so much,” she finally whispered. 

All the air left Glimmer’s lungs. Sobs racked her body, gasping, loud sobs full of childish rage and injustice as she shook against her mother's chest, fists curled and heart aching.

The time after that passed in a blur of grief. Glimmer, after her initial meltdown, sat silently in her room on the floor, holding a ball of light in her hands. The longest she could do it at one time was five minutes or so. Each time it went out and she had nothing else to concentrate on, pain filled her chest again. She only processed hours later that Perfuma’s father had finally sent for her and that Mermista’s family had left to go back to Salineas and do what repairs they could. It wasn’t fair, that their families should be left intact and that she should be left alone. So she was left in her sorrow in solitude. 

The empty hours turned to days and Glimmer realized that it was time for the weekly meeting again. She attended, not knowing whether it was by force of habit or from a need for companionship. Her mother was there too, but her commanding spirit was not. She was grieving too, for her land, for her people, for her husband. Glimmer watched the Alliance crumble without a firm leader. Bright Moon was still reeling from their losses when Salineas was attacked. They were barely able to keep the Horde from getting through the Sea Gate, and Mermista’s father announced their resignation from the Alliance soon after, frustrated by the lack of support in trying times. Perfuma’s father, worn down by witnessing the deaths of his people and the burning of his towns, didn’t take much longer to withdraw. Entrapta left after that, frustrated by the lack of support from Queen Angella and the seeming hopelessness of the war. Only Spinarella and Netossa remained. It seemed that they had grown up in the war just as much as Glimmer had and were as such bounded to it, but both lacked a kingdom, or an army, or anything beyond their powers, and the support of two people could not keep an Alliance together.

By the time Glimmer was eleven, the Princess Alliance had crumbled completely. The war had left her friendless and fatherless. She had grown up under the war table, and it was not a good place to grow up. 


End file.
